


Where Heaven Stops

by Goethicite



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Coffee Shops, Gen, Menacing Behavior, Military, Non Consensual, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goethicite/pseuds/Goethicite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They couldn't stay like this forever, between scientific discovery, new love, and endless blue skies over painted mountains.  Eventually someone would notice.  At least one of the jack-booted thugs was kind enough to warn them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Heaven Stops

The thing about rural New Mexico was there were just enough old hippies left that even the tiniest towns had somewhere to get decent coffee. The little shithole town Jane was working out of was no exception. Darcy took a picture of her double shot, half fat, chocolate covered mocha to send to her mother. She got a photo of her mother's half-drunk latte in return next to her mother's smiling face. Darcy had no idea how people survived before smart phones and social media. Her parents were in Miami. She was in Bumfuck, New Mexico, and they could still have all those stupid little conversations that were part of being a family. For the hell of it, she poked her sister on Facebook. Though Emma wouldn't see it until after work. It wasn't that StarkIndustries cared if their employees used Facebook at lunch, but Emma loved her job. She ate lunch at her desk working with her free hand.

"Coffee, black, on ice," the only other customer said. His voice was so soft the barista had to ask him to repeat his order. Darcy glanced over at him, expecting to see someone her own age in shy, slouchy clothes. She'd met enough boys like that in college to know the tone. So it was a bit of a surprise the guy was in his thirties wearing a pair of khaki work pants and in a tight, drab green shirt.

Darcy felt her mouth start to water. So it wasn't that the barista couldn't hear him. Darcy didn't blame her. She was pretty damn distracted too. "Thanks," the guy said, taking his coffee to the counter and drizzling in simple syrup until Darcy's teeth ached in sympathy. He glanced up the two woman, giving them both a crooked smile as he tried to figure out why they were staring. Either he was one of those borderline sociopathic fucks who just pretended not to notice the looks women gave him to lure them in. Or he was completely oblivious to what a drink of water he was in this tiny, dusty town. Based on the fact he looked slightly wary rather than dumbly happy made Darcy suspect the latter.

"You lost?" the barista finally asked. It wasn't an unreasonable question. Most strangers coming through town were bikers or hikers or mountain bikers. This man was obviously none of those. So he had to be lost.

"No ma'am," he replied so Darcy and the barista had to lean forward to hear him. "I know where I'm going, thanks." His smiled did go a little dumb then. It was a stilted expression which left the strong impression he was just a pretty face decorating an empty head. Darcy didn't believe it for a moment. Of course, it only made the barista lean forward and attempt to shove up her cleavage more.

Wisely, the guy stirred his coffee and left quickly. Darcy followed him at a polite distance. Just because Darcy was oogling his assets didn't mean she had to rude about it. Jane was coming out of the convenience store loaded down with bags of pop-tarts, diet soda, water, and ramen. A bag of carrots peaked out of one bag. So Erik's lectures on malnutrition seemed to be getting through.

"Darcy," Jane said around the bag of cheesy puffs held between her teeth. "Help." Even as she spoke the bag with bottled water and soda started to rip. Their vital supplies were about to go skittering across the gravel parking lot. One hand clenched around her mocha, Darcy sprinted forward to prevent her diet Mountain Dew from being covered in dust. The man from the coffee shop got there just as the bag started to split. One hand cupped right over the split, supporting the contents.

"Darcy?" Jane demanded again, awkwardly, staring at the man like she thought he might bite.

Darcy hustled forward to collect the bag, cradling it in her arms to prevent further damage while balancing her drink. "Thanks. It's okay, Jane. I know he's a stranger, but he's probably not going to turn into one of those freaks from Criminal Minds if you turn your back."

Still not completely convinced, Jane turned to unlock the battered, ancient camper that they used for transportation. "You're not, right?" Darcy demanded, glaring at the stranger. "If you turn out to be a serial killer, Jane will never believe me that not all new people are out to get her."

"No, I'm… not going to hurt anyone," the stranger said. And apparently barely audible was his speaking voice. He gave a small, real smile. "Promise." To prove his point, he stepped to the side so Darcy could dump the contents of the broken bag into the camper with the other groceries. His eyes flitted over the huge pile of food. It was probably a little weird to an outsider that two women were buying enough to feed a medium sized army, but Thor ate the way Darcy had previously believed only a Scout troop of teenage boys could.

Then Darcy looked down at the man's boots. The man's desert combat boots, well worn. They'd heard rumors of a line of black of cars and military trucks rolling through to the outskirts of town and were still pretending very hard the movments had nothing to do with Jane's new boyfriend. So far they'd successfully stayed off the radar. Mostly because the locals were as suspicious of strange, psuedo-military activity as Jane was. But Darcy knew that it couldn't last. In fact, she suspected their luck had just run out. She looked back up into the man's pale, now eerily empty eyes, "Oh shit."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. That," he agreed dryly. He waited for her to take several deep, calming breaths and brace herself to start begging. Before she could say something humiliating in an attempt to keep him quiet, he murmured, "I don't talk so loud. Sometimes people have trouble hearing what I say. Sometimes the people in charge are too busy to bother getting me to repeat myself."

Darcy smiled weakly. She wasn't used to being quite so wrong about people. With his seeming shyness, she hadn't even registered the boots until it was too late. "I… Thanks."

"Not much to say anyways," he shrugged. "Maybe you three were just hungry." Darcy tried not to wince at the implication he already knew about her, Jane, and Erik. She knew she'd failed because the man grimaced as well. "You've got some time," he concluded. "Not long though."

Nodding mechanically, Darcy tried not to choke on the air her lungs needed so badly. She wanted to say something witty about men in black, but it just wouldn't be funny with those cool eyes looking straight through her. Not in a good way either. Her stomach felt heavy and cold instead of the pleasant, fluttery warmth when she'd first seen him. "I should go with Jane. I… I don't know your name," she said suddenly, startled. They had been talking barely six inches away from each other, breathing the same air. Darcy didn't even know who she was talking to.

"No," he agreed with the stilted smile on his face again. "You don't, Darcy." Snake quick, he pressed a kiss to her temple that made her flinch back. "Don't worry. Civilians don't get hurt. Not on my ops."

His lips were molten against her skin. The heat and greasy residue from his chapstick lingering long after he'd walked away. Darcy realized she was shaking when Jane asked her, "What did he do? Do you want me to call the marshal?"

Darcy shook her head, reaching up to finger the sticky patch. She brought a small smear to her nose and sniffed. It smelled faintly of vanilla, lavender, and beeswax, a woman's lip balm. There hadn't been a woman in the car. Darcy turned into Jane's waiting hug. "We need to go back to Thor," she told the woman who'd become her best friend out here. "Just, let's just go home, okay?"

"Okay," Jane said quietly, carding her fingers through Darcy's hair. The black car pulled out of the parking lot with the smooth acceleration of a well maintained engine. The physicist watched it go with a growing sense of dread. They'd been living in the desert too long. Out here it was easy to let the days bleed together, confident nothing would change, and the outside world would politely stay out. They'd gotten used to skies so big you felt insignificant and mistakenly assumed everyone else would believe it too. "Let's go home." At least at home, Erik and Thor were there, and Darcy wouldn't be vulnerable to strange men who barely spoke above a whisper.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is for myownknight for correctly guessing the link between Landshuth's real name and her alias. It takes place in the Fletcher'sverse. So Darcy was about half a foot from a killer. No matter how moral he may be at this stage. Like the rest of Fletcher'sverse, it tends away from fluffy. Sorry. Possibly some cuteness at a later point in the actual story when Jane and Darcy know he's on their side.
> 
> I lived several years in New Mexico and still love to vacation there. The descriptions are all things I've felt while I lived there. Finally, yes, Clint was using Natasha's lip balm. He could give a crap about social norms.


End file.
